


A Nice Guy

by JulieJewels



Series: About Peter Parker [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, POV Outsider, Party, Precious Peter Parker, Sensory Overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-28 04:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18203618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulieJewels/pseuds/JulieJewels
Summary: Cindy's birthday is coming up, and her life has taken a turn for the weird. Her parents are okay with the party she's planning on having - well, her Dad is; her Mom's just trying to stay calm and carry on -, Flash has temporarily laid off the bullying and, last but not least, Peter Parker is ... popular now?But stranger things have happened, right?Well, when things go a little wrong at the party and Peter swoops in to save the day, Cindy discovers a side of him that runs deeper than what his new-found fans seem to be seeing in him.





	1. The Ambush

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, there!  
> This is the continuation of my story A Lucky Guy. If you haven't read it, you might have a few problems with the first chapter, but after that, I think you should understand just fine. This story is a little lighter before we dive right back into some more angst.  
> Enjoy!

Three weeks had passed since the _‘Fiery Attack on New York’,_ as the press had decided to dub it, and Cindy was all but done with it. She’d listened to reporters, watched videos on YouTube, seen pictures, read descriptions, gossiped with classmates, gossiped with friends, skimmed over newspaper articles, even. No explanation had been given except for the outdated one that everyone seemed to stick to like to a well rehearsed script: a group of terrorists had decided to wreak havoc and burn down a chunk of New York, aiming to do what terrorists do best: spread fear.

The only problem with that theory (at least in Cindy’s humble opinion)? Nobody had any idea who the perpetrators were. A guy on YouTube had caught a curious symbol on the side of one of the planes – an octopus with a skull for its head –, but no one who was willing to talk knew anything about that particular emblem, and no one who knew anything about it was willing to talk.

Now, what kind of terrorist would terrorise without claiming responsibility or at least making sure the public knew exactly what they had wanted to achieve? What kind of terrorist would not have spoken up until now, while the Incident was still fresh on everyone’s mind and the fear was raw in their stomachs?

Cindy was far from an expert, but something smelled fishy. She had gone through the events in her head time and again but always with the same disappointing outcome. It was a frustrating process, coming up empty over and over, and after weeks of thinking about little else, Cindy was exhausted to the bone. She had reached a point where she wanted to forget the whole affair had ever happened.

She might have even succeeded at this latest endeavour if it weren’t for the shift in mood at school. Namely, the shift of attitude towards a certain Peter Parker. The little nerd, well liked but never admired, had grown into something much more awe-inspiring seemingly overnight.

He had stayed away from school for a week and a half after _The Attack_ – which had hardly been surprising, considering he had dislocated his shoulder if Cindy remembered correctly. Besides, most kids had taken a few days off. What _had_ been surprising, though, were the whispers. The ones in dark hallways and quiet corners, spreading rumours of Peter Parker, the Chosen Hero who had guided a schoolful of students to safety and then gone on and saved the world, too.

The whispers weren’t wrong per se, but the things that Cindy could catch were vastly exaggerated, which was a pity in her opinion. Their story was remarkable enough in itself. _Peter_ was remarkable enough by himself. There was no need to make him a legend.

Besides, she felt kind of bad for Peter. If he noticed the change in the air, the breath that caught in dozens of throats whenever he appeared, he didn’t show it. He sauntered on and fought through day after day with Ned and Michelle by his side. Still, being the object of ninety percent of the discussions at school was never fun, however heroic those discussions made one look, and Peter tended to fare worse than most under the weight of attention.

It wasn’t that Cindy didn’t appreciate what Peter had done. She was nothing if not grateful – she had no idea what would have become of her if it weren’t for the nerd. But she had gone about the thing in a completely different fashion. She had surprised Peter with a batch of cookies – courtesy of her Mom, but no one had to know that –, shown her gratitude very openly and been done with it.

She still remembered the flush on his cheeks, the shy hand that had flown to the back of his neck to scratch at something invisible, the smile as he thanked her. She still remembered that he had eaten only one or two cookies himself and had given the rest away in normal Peter-Parker fashion. She remembered that even Flash, the smug bastard, had snatched a few off the tray, and that Peter hadn’t even commented the rude action that had definitely been fishing for some kind of response.

And speaking of Flash.

He had been eerily quiet, too. No threats, no bullying and only the occasional remark thrown Peter’s way. If nothing else had been an indicator of how _wrong_ things were around Midtown High, this was definitely the ultimate one.

But Cindy’s birthday was coming up now and that was where she drew the line. She wouldn’t stay home and ponder the disaster that had occurred three weeks ago. She wouldn’t mourn people she had never met, wouldn’t keep a silent vigil as everyone else seemed hell bent on doing. She was going to have a party, and a big one at that.

Her mother had sputtered at that idea. She had set her cup of coffee down hard, flashing her daughter a stern glare. Her face had contorted and Cindy could tell she had been about to speak, hanging on the verge of a tirade, but before she could utter a word, Cindy’s father had lifted a hand and nodded solemnly, his voice rich and serious as he said, “Perhaps a party is exactly what everyone needs in these dark times.”

Cindy wished she could unhear those words – it was a simple _party;_ it wasn’t supposed to be a cure or a way to make things better, and it definitely wasn’t supposed to have any significance beyond loud music, fun, dancing and booze. But if her Dad’s need to find a deeper meaning got her the birthday she wanted, so be it. She was not above exploiting such opportunities to her benefit, and she would stand by this decision.

So on with her plans she went. She invited almost everyone she knew, and some people she did not, telling them to bring along whoever they wanted. Unsurprisingly enough, her friends were grateful to accept the invitation. The thing was, nobody Cindy knew was really grieving. _The Attack_ , as horrible as it could have turned out, had been quickly handled by the Avengers, who had once again swooped in and saved the day. Five victims in all, was what all the reports said, and the small number was a miracle in itself, considering the magnitude of the attack. As if that had not been enough, the Avengers had diligently helped rebuild the town. In three weeks, many a house had been restored to its former glory – funded by everyone’s favourite billionaire, who had, besides, opened the doors of his tower to anyone who needed a roof over their head.

Things were as good as they could get, but no one was allowed to say so because the catastrophe was still supposed to be exactly that – a catastrophe.

Midtown High – surprisingly unaffected by the fires that had raged around it – had struggled to go on as usual, but under the weight of past events, _usual_ was not an easy thing to grasp anymore. It was as if the students had been holding their breath, waiting for someone – or something – to finally release them from their shock.

A party seemed just what they all needed – and wouldn’t Cindy’s Dad have been happy to hear her think that.

***

Looking back, the crowd of girls that gathered around Cindy one day after school shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

She was just tying her shoes to go home for the day. Books rested on the bench next to her and she was engrossed in cataloguing everything she still had to do. A paper for chemistry was due Monday and then there was the history essay that she should have done three days ago but had not managed yet. She huffed, annoyed, as Annie tapped her shoulder and made her look up.

A bunch of girls were standing around her in a loose semi-circle, watching her intently. There were maybe eight in total. One of them giggled, but none of them spoke up. Cindy cocked a brow and her voice was dry as she said, “Yeah?”

A beat, eight pairs of eyes blinking down at her.

“Well,” Annie the cheerleader said after a silence that had been stretched a tad too long, brushing a hand through her long blond hair. “We were just wondering …”

“Yeah?”

“Were you going to invite Parker to your party or not?”

It caught Cindy completely off guard.

In all honesty, she _had_ been thinking of inviting the nerd. As a friend and not because of what he had done for all of them. But not like this. She had never imagined _this._

“You’ve got to be kidding,” was all she managed.

Annie squirmed and now another one of the girls started giggling. Cindy huffed, letting her eyes roam over them. They were smiling. Blond, brown-haired, blue-eyed and green-eyed, with red cheeks and dark cheeks and pale cheeks and waiting, all of them. Waiting for her to say something. She could see that they were struggling to keep their cool, but the atmosphere was awkward and Cindy wanted nothing more than to get away.

“Have you ever seen Peter come to a party?” she tried to dismiss.

“Yeah!” Irene piped up from behind Annie. “That one time …”

“Yeah, and it ended _so_  well for him,” Cindy muttered under her breath, sighing. She made a face. “So, what now? You want me to invite him?”

Their eyes sparkled. “Only of you want …” Annie was quick to assure, but her words held much less resolve than she seemed to believe.

Cindy sighed again, paused for a second, and made a choice. If she could use her father’s naiveté to get a party, she could use Peter Parker to make people come to and enjoy said party. “Sure, why not,” Cindy conceded, placing her feet on the ground, grabbing the books from the bench and jumping up. “I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

“ _Actually._ ” Annie pushed Cindy back down, taking the books from her slack hands. Cindy stared as the blonde smiled. “We were thinking more like … _now._ ”

Cindy frowned. “ _Now_?”

“Yeah, he had to take that science exam he missed last week, remember?” Sandra chipped in and Cindy’s gaze wandered to her. She bit her lip. _How do they know so much about him?_ And then Val was already talking, demanding her attention.

“He’ll only be another five minutes.”

“How do you _know_ that?” Cindy asked, amazed.

Annie shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a secret,” she said, sounding a touch too defensive. She was still absentmindedly holding Cindy’s books, and when she noticed, she carefully repositioned them on the bench. “Come on, Cindy, you know it would be only fair. He _did_ save your life and the least you can do is invite him to your party.”

“Uh-huh,” Cindy deadpanned. “Only altruistic reasons behind this, then.”

“Of course, what did you think?”

“Well, where’s he taking this exam?”

“Room three-oh-four,” Irene responded instantly, then blushed when more than just Cindy’s eyes turned to her. She shrank away, smiling shyly. “What, you didn’t know?”

Cindy rolled her eyes and stood up again, this time leaving her books behind. She walked off, listening absentmindedly to the sounds of eight shuffling girls behind her. _Let's get this over with._ She took the stairs, and strode right to room 304. A girl on a mission with her army at her side.

Of course, with her luck, it was in that instant that the door opened. Mister Harrington stepped out, holding the door for Peter and fiddling with his keys. They were both wearing smiles.

“… told him that he could have anyone else but Peter Parker,” the teacher was saying. “’I need that boy for myself,’ that’s what I told him.”

“Thanks, Mister Harrington,” Peter retorted, looking appropriately embarrassed. His cheeks were a deep red and his gaze was lowered, but there was a smile playing on his lips. “That means a lot.”

The man nodded curtly, noticing the girls. “What I’m saying, Peter, is just go on doing what you’re doing. I think you could really accomplish great things one day.”

“Thanks,” Peter mumbled and Mister Harrington took his leave.

The boy now lifted his gaze from the floor and let it rest on Cindy. She realised belatedly that it was her turn to speak. Funny how she had no idea what to say now that it counted.

“Heeeey, Peter,” she settled on at long last, a second before the silence would have grown from awkward to awful. “Just the man I wanted to run into.”

_What?!_

But to his credit, Peter only smiled at her and nodded to everyone else, as if having nine girls ambush you after an exam was completely normal. “Hi.”

“I, uh, I was just wondering if you wanted to come to my party next Saturday?”

Now Peter was the one lost for words. He seemed to struggle with himself a little, his face growing redder, and then he asked what Cindy should have expected, of course, but somehow hadn’t.

“Can Ned and MJ come?”

“Of course.” Her response was immediate because there was just no way in hell that the nerd would turn up without his friends in tow. “And whoever else you would want to bring along.”

Peter’s lips quirked. “I think they’ll do.” Then he sobered. “I still have to ask Mister Stark, though. But if I’m free, sure. Thanks for the invite.”

The girls’ giggles didn’t make Cindy’s job of staying cool any easier as she descended the stairs and avoided Peter’s stare that weighed heavily on her back. It was only in the evening that she realised she had forgotten her books at school, leaving her even more behind on schoolwork than she had been to begin with.

Huh. Apparently, she had let herself get caught up in the whole Parker craze – a thing she had promised herself she would never do. Now, at least, she hoped the party would turn out okay. If that little nerd did anything to ruin it – knowingly or otherwise –, she was going to personally impale him, Chosen Hero or not.

 


	2. Block

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cindy and Peter talk. There's a little crisis, but it's successfully averted. Also, Peter Parker knows how to fight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you all for reading! We're moving on with chapter two. Enjoy! :D

It was Saturday and Cindy was feeling nervous. Her gut was a ball of anxiety and nothing was helping. Not breakfast that had settled heavy in the pit of her stomach, not her friends’ comforting texts and certainly not the chaotic rush to get all the last-minute details in order.

But then it was eight, the first guests started arriving and her mood quickly improved. She showed them where to put their coats, where to deposit their presents and where to find the snacks. The disco lights started working, then – Cindy released a breath she had not realised she had been holding – and when the DJ put on his music, turning the room into a dance floor, Cindy wanted to melt into a puddle of relief.

She had decided to have the party at her cousin’s house. Cindy’s was not half as big as this one, plus her parents were home right now and while they were on board with the party, she wasn’t sure they would be on board with … everything else.

So here she was, showing guests around the less-than-familiar rooms to the beat of the music and the rise and fall of laughter in the background. The more people arrived, the less anxious Cindy felt. She slipped naturally into her role as host, greeting newcomers with a bright smile and a plate of cookies. Once enough of her guests knew where the toilets were, how the snacks were organised and not to break the TV, she strayed towards the dance floor.

She didn’t leave for a while.

On the evening went. She danced a lot, laughed a lot and drank a little, and when the clock neared midnight, her feet were sore. She excused herself from the little group she had been dancing with and collapsed into a chair. Her legs throbbed as she forced herself to stay still, even for a moment, and her throat burned. She was slick with sweat all over and suddenly the stuffy living room felt too small for this many people.

“Hey, birthday girl!” Violet screamed from the next chair over, clutching a glass of something blue close to her chest. She was leaning over too far, her grin way too wide, but Cindy did not mind. She had noticed before that Violet had hardly moved from her spot all night, and that her gaze had hardly strayed from a certain boy on the other side of the room. “How do you like the party?”

Cindy smiled brightly and yelled back, “Love it!” Then she took a deep breath and got up. “Just gonna take a breather, I’ll be right back!”

Violet nodded, her eyes already back on Stan from next door, and Cindy had to stifle a laugh as she moved through the packed room to the back door, stepping out into the night.

The change was immediate and shocking.

She took in a breath of crisp, fresh air and crossed her arms in front of her chest. The door closed behind her with a click and the music was cut off like a blaring smoke alarm missing its batteries. She had started to shiver not five seconds outside and she was reconsidering her need for some peace and quiet. No wonder there were no people lingering about, except for a small group of guys, huddled tightly into their coats.

And someone else.

She peeked around the corner. Her ears rang in the quiet of the night. They had not forgotten the loud beats inside, would not be so quick to forgive the mistreatment, but she could still hear someone talking.

Whining, almost.

And, she had to admit, her interest was piqued.

It was Peter.

He had his back pressed up against the wall of the house, his eyes glued to the sky, his butt resting on the cold ground. His right hand was raised to his ear and it took Cindy’s foggy mind a minute to draw the right conclusions.

When she did, Peter was already talking to the person on the other side of the call.

“Of _course_ it was raised, Mister Stark …” Cindy drew in a surprised breath. At that, Peter’s eyes snapped over to her and she was not fast enough drawing back, so she was effectively caught red-handed. She cursed mentally but then realised that she was not the one blushing, even though she was the one in the wrong.

“I have to go, Mister Stark,” Peter stuttered, his eyes round and his cheeks a deep red. He was still staring at her, until the person on the other end – Tony _Stark_ , apparently – said something to grab his full attention again. His gaze flew away as he rubbed his eyes.

“You do _not_ have to come. Seriously, I’m fine now. I _promise._ ”

Cindy waited out the quiet.

“Of course. Thanks, Mister Stark.”

And then he had stuffed his phone back into his pocket and turned to her. He was sporting a very uncomfortable expression, as if he were the one at fault and not Cindy.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” she said and finally decided to emerge from her hiding spot that had been compromised a while ago anyway. “What’re you doing out here?”

He shrugged, hugging his knees closer to his chest. He was wearing his coat, Cindy noticed, but he shivered nonetheless. She made her way over to him carefully, sitting down on the ground next to him and hoping he would not notice that all she was wearing was her black sleeveless party dress and her high heels.

“Felt a little crowded in there, is all,” he explained, looking at the ground. “You?”

“The same.” She paused. “They didn’t smother you, did they?”

He blushed. “No. No.”

“Right.”

A nervous chuckle. “There were just …  a lot of them.”

“Girls?”

A pause. Silence. Then, quietly, “Yeah.”

She laughed, making him flinch. Her elbow found his arm and bumped against it. “It’s the dream, man. You’re finally popular.”

He chuckled again, hoarse, but the sound fell short of reaching his eyes. “Right.”

She frowned, looking him up and down. It was not often she got to see this side of Peter Parker. The melancholy side or whatever this was. At school, he was never less than beaming. A huge smile and a restless energy about him, that was what defined him. But now he leaned his head back against the wall, let it land with a quiet thump, and as he looked up, he seemed exhausted and stiff.

“Are you okay?” she asked, feeling the cold, hard wall on her back and the cold, fresh air on her arms. She was surprised Peter had not noticed her shivering yet.

He just nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“That was Tony Stark you were talking to on the phone, wasn’t it?”

He stiffened, let the quiet swell for a few seconds. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Well, uh …” He seemed to gather his thoughts, fists clenching and unclenching. He licked his lips before he said, “He just calls sometimes.”

“I get that, dummy.” She bumped his shoulder playfully, trying to bring a little levity into the conversation. And perhaps letting her drinks bubble to the surface, but no one had to know that. “I saw the way you acted around each other at the Tower.”

“Oh.”

“Why was he calling now?” she pressed. That, she was used to. If you wanted to get a straight answer out of Peter Parker, you had to press and press until you found the right spot, and then you needed to press some more.

“Well … uh …” He deflated with his next sigh, as if all the breath had been sucked out of him. “I get these episodes and Mister Stark just wanted to know if I was okay.”

Cindy cocked a brow. “What kind of episodes?”

He had yet to look at her. “Um …” Then the words burst out of him. “Sometimes, when a lot is going on, my senses just … go haywire. I don’t know how to explain, exactly, but it’s too much. You know, everything happening at once. Sounds and smells and tastes and touches and it can … it can get a lot.”

“Sensory overload,” she said, nodding to herself. “I’ve heard of that.”

It was Peter’s turn to be surprised. “You have?”

“Yeah. A party’s probably not the best place for that.”

He chuckled dryly. “Right.” His eyes were back on the sky and she could see stars twinkling inside them.

“Is that why you never come to parties?”

This seemed to rattle him a little, seeing as his brown orbs were taking her in again. Then his lips quirked up into a lopsided smile. “That and the fact that I don’t get invited all that often. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not what passes for cool these days.”

“God, you sound like my Grandpa.” Cindy sighed, shaking her head, and Peter chuckled. Her grin broadened. “And I mean my grandpa Harry by that, who is actually my great grandpa and has never got the memo that we live in the twenty-first century now.”

“Ow.” He raised a hand to his heart theatrically, breathing hard. “You wound me.”

“You know, that might be part of the problem,” Cindy said, laughing at their antics. “Your uncool way of talking.”

“And what problem would that be?” His eyes sparkled mischievously, closer to the Peter Parker Cindy knew and loved.

“Parker, we’re only talking about one problem here, and that’s you and your less than satisfactory rate of social gatherings. Don’t try to change the subject.”

“Not trying to change anything,” Peter dismissed and his smirk was as wide as ever now, “I’m just trying to point out that the problem might not be much of a problem at all.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I don’t mind not being invited to all that many parties, if you catch my drift.”

She stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head and looked away, up at the stars, the way he had been doing from the beginning. “I swear to God, Parker, you’re a twerp.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence, melting back against the wall, until Peter flinched out of the blue, scaring Cindy all the way to the Moon.

“What the hell, Parker?!” she screamed and he grimaced, shrugging out of his coat.

“Oh, my God, you’re just sitting here in a dress when it’s, like, thirty degrees out!”

Cindy wanted to protest because it was certainly more than _thirty degrees out_ , but when the soft material enveloped her in a warm embrace, she couldn’t suppress a sigh. Peter grinned at her apparent relief, though Cindy was quick to realise that he was now the one suffering, dressed only in his black hoodie. She waited exactly ten seconds before she addressed the very visible goose bumps on his neck and the shiver in his spine.

“You feeling better now? Think we could go back inside?”

“Oh, you can go,” he assured. “I’m – well, Mister Stark wouldn’t let it go and he sent his driver, who’s going to pick me up in, like …” He glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes.”

“So you’re going to wait for ten minutes out here in the cold?”

He nodded shyly. “But you go in. Have fun.” Then he smiled again, warm and dimply. “Happy birthday, Cindy.”

She wanted to giggle, wanted to hug him or something, but that was not part of her image. So she just rolled her eyes and said, “Whatever, Parker.”

The moment she crawled up to her feet, though, the door opened and Annica stormed out, followed by her ex. Pierre, Cindy remembered. She froze and felt a hand on her arm a moment later, pulling her back.

Peter had, apparently, gotten to his feet quicker than should have been possible, and was already taking a step forward, putting himself between Cindy and the pair who had barged out of the house and disrupted the heavy quiet. As if he wanted to protect her or something. Cindy didn’t really mind, not as she tried to make sense of the situation. Annica looked out of breath and considerably drunk, while Pierre looked nothing but angry. He raged about, his jaw clenched and eyes wide, and Cindy watched in horror as he lifted a hand over his head, apparently fully intent on letting it come to rest in Annica’s hair or grasp Annica’s wrist or clutch her shoulder.

Or strike.

Whatever his intention, he never managed to get farther than raising his hand before a certain Peter Parker was there, holding Pierre’s wrist in a tight grip and making his arm pause in mid-air.

“Come on, man,” Peter said in that normal, kind-of-whiney voice of his, but Cindy’s ears filtered out an undertone that had nothing to do with fear or shyness. His hoodie-clad form no longer shivered. “What are you going to do, drag her back inside?”

Annica had whirled around by then, managed to stay on her feet and keep her eyes trained on the pair.

Pierre looked at Peter with mild disgust. His face contorted in something Cindy could only describe as wrath, and he looked threatening the way he stood over the other boy, at least a head taller and seemingly twice as broad.

Cindy’s bones shook. For the first time in her life, it was not in fear for herself.

“Look, man –” Peter started, but that was all he could manage before Pierre had pushed him away and the smaller boy had landed in the mud. He picked himself up quickly, dusting off his pants and returning to the scuffle sooner than Pierre could have raised his hand again or even turned back to Annica.

Thank God for that, too.

“Move away,” Pierre growled, but Peter did nothing of the sort. Instead, he looked over his shoulder at Annica and asked, “Are you okay?”

The girl nodded, hugging herself tightly and looking down, letting a few mascara-coloured tears escape.

Peter turned back to Pierre.

“So, how do we do thi –”

Pierre’s fist was already pressed into Peter’s abdomen, and the boy’s breath was swept away. He hunched, screwing his eyes shut. The larger guy leant down, bringing his mouth to Parker’s ear and growling, “You stay away from my girlfriend.”

She had to do something, Cindy knew. She had to do something  _now._

“I don’t think she’s your girlfriend,” she corrected, stepping forward on shaky legs. “She’s broken up with you, Pierre, let it go.”

Pierre’s raging eyes turned on her and she shied away unwillingly. The few steps she’d made had guided her closer to Annica and now she decided to go the rest of the way, draping an arm over her friend’s shivering shoulders.

Meantime, Peter had had enough time to recover. He was standing straight again, back unbent. Cindy could not see his face, but oddly, the confidence in his posture had not faded.

Pierre’s next strike was quickly under way, but Peter blocked it. As he did the next and the next and the next. Pierre’s brow furrowed in mild confusion, and Cindy could not help but join the sentiment. She watched in awe as Peter parried, wishing she could move to the side to get a better look. But Annica was a mess in her arms, bawling her eyes out, and it was all Cindy could do to support her and keep her standing.

Peter never attacked, though.

Cindy was sure he could have, but he did not. He just defended himself, block, block, block, until Pierre had seemingly had enough. That was when Peter grabbed his arm and twisted it onto his back, effectively rendering him powerless.

“I’ll stay away from her if you do,” Cindy heard Peter say into Pierre’s ear. “Deal?”

The larger guy did not answer, but when Peter let him go, he scurried back into the house. Cindy heaved a sigh of relief, watching the door fall shut and drown out the sounds from within once more.


	3. A Nice Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cindy and Peter share a car ride. They have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you guys! I loved your comments; they were amazing! Thanks so much! And also thank you for reading!

“Tha-Thanks,” Annica stuttered and Peter turned around to them, smiling brightly. There was no tension in his expression, no dawdling remnant of the fight. As if he had not just overpowered a guy taller and heavier than himself. As if he had not flipped the natural order of things and _survived_.

And then he waved off. “Sure thing.”

Cindy scoffed, but she had bigger fish to fry than Peter’s obvious hero complex. At least at the moment. A stray glance to the house revealed a small crowd pressed up against the windows. Great. They’d witnessed the whole thing and Cindy saw their mute mouths start parting in what looked to be a chant. A guy in the middle of the group lifted his arm, turning around and bobbing his head to a soundless beat. The mouths that opened in rhythm with his seemed to be forming two specific syllables, if Cindy’s lip reading was as good as it used to be.

_Par-ker. Par-ker. Par-ker._

Peter never noticed. Of course not.

And, really, Cindy probably shouldn’t have either. She forced her brain into problem-solving mode, turning her attention to Annica. “I need to take her home. Can you help me get her to the car?”

“Or …” Peter drew the word out and Cindy, impatient as she was, huffed.

“Just spit it out, Parker.”

“I have a driver on his way. He should be here …” A glance at his watch. “In three minutes. I can take her home and you can stay and enjoy your party.”

Cindy bit her lip, looking from Annica to Peter and back. She pointedly ignored the window and the action behind it. She _did_ want to stay, but that did not seem right and, well …

The least she could do was go with them and see to it that they did not run into any more trouble.

When a huge black car rolled into the driveway and stopped, Peter’s eyes lit up. Cindy could only stare, slack-jawed, as Peter helped Annica climb into the vehicle and then turned to her, waving her forward.

The interior was, if possible, more striking than the exterior.

The seats were beige and elegant, a light feature against the backdrop of the dark car. There were two benches, facing each other, and then there was a divider and two more seats, the left of which was occupied by a dark-haired man looking over his shoulder.

Peter climbed in last and Cindy saw the driver’s eyes shine for a moment before he schooled his features and hid his smile.

“Hi, Happy,” Peter said once he had closed the door behind him. Since Cindy and Annica had both sat down on the rear bench, the boy took a seat right next to the divider and grinned brashly at the driver.

“Hey, kid,” was all the man said.

“Uh, is it okay if we take a girl home?”

The only answer was the divider sliding up silently and Peter turned back to them, grinning. “That means yes,” he said, leaning back.

“Nice,” Cindy muttered dryly.

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, no, Happy’s the nicest guy ever! He just doesn’t really like to talk … to me. He talks to Mister Stark loads, though. So it’s not him, it’s me.”

Without any sense of bitterness whatsoever.

Though Cindy suspected there was more going on here. By the glance the driver had thrown Parker’s way when the boy had first climbed into the car, she guessed that the two got along pretty well.

They drove in silence except for Annica’s quick response when asked where she lived. They dropped her off, helped her stagger to the door, then collapsed back into the comfy seats of the limo.

“Where to now?” Happy asked as he backed out of the driveway.

“Back to the party?” Peter made his statement sound more like a question, and it was directed at Cindy. She smiled shyly and nodded. Then she almost jumped out of her seat when the theme song of James Bond started blaring through the cabin.

“Sorry,” Peter apologised, combing nervously through his pockets. He pulled out his phone, looked at the screen and sighed.

“Happy, it’s Mister Stark again!”

There was no response.

“He’s been calling me all evening.”

The divider slid down just a slit and Happy glanced over his shoulder shortly, seemingly exasperated, before he turned back to the road. “And that’s my problem how, kid?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know, could you maybe just take the call …”

“Right.”

The divider was closed sooner than Peter could finish his thought and he huffed. James Bond was still playing and Cindy had the nagging suspicion that it was not going to stop.

Peter seemed to come to the same conclusion because he tapped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hi, Mister Stark!”

A few beats of silence, Peter looking more and more resigned before he spoke up.

“I know, Mister Stark, there was this guy and I kinda got in his way and my pulse went up a little …”

He paused again and Cindy wanted nothing more than to listen in on the whole conversation, hear what the billionaire had to say to this kid. Her classmate. Peter Parker, whom she had known for the better part of her life, but whom she apparently did not know at all.

Who _was_ he?

How could nerdy Parker be on the phone with _Tony Stark_ , for the second time that day, talking about something as mundane as his _pulse?_

Who in the world talked about their _pulse,_ anyway? With anyone, let alone _Tony Stark_?

Cindy considered herself a cool and collected person, but the night had been challenging and taxing and excuse her for wanting to crawl under her sheets and sleep till kingdom come.

“No, Mister St – Hey, how could you say that! I was going to be on time, but … You know I would never cancel Movie Night.”

Another pause, then Peter rubbed his eyes.

“Not yet, Mister Stark. We’re still dropping off one of my classmates, and then we’ll probably have to pick up Ned because he didn’t bring his car, and then we’ll drop him off. So … how long do you think that’ll take, Happy?”

“Three quarters of an hour,” came the muffled reply through the new crack in the divider. That sly driver. He had been eavesdropping on the conversation just like Cindy.

“Three quarters of an hour,” Peter relayed to the phone and nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’m really sorry, Mister Stark.”

His voice small and low now, so much more serious. Then his eyes lit up.

“Really? They said yes?” He grinned. “Abe is going to be so happy! I’ll bring him by on Monday then, so you can talk through the details.”

 _Abe? Details?_ Cindy was almost too exhausted to wonder. _Almost._

“Yeah. I’ll see you then. Bye, Mister Stark!”

He threw the phone into the cushions and exhaled audibly. Cindy waited, her breath caught somewhere in her throat, but when Parker did not offer any explanations – any _at all_ –, she exploded.

“What about Abe?” was the first thing to tumble out of her mouth.

Parker looked at her and smirked. “You’ll see soon enough.”

She scoffed. “So what, Parker, you bailed on Tony Stark just to drive Annica home?”

He blushed. “I didn’t _bale_ on anyone,” he defended. “We’ll have movie night later.”

“But you could have just let me drive her home.”

“You’ve had a few drinks.”

“So?”

“ _So_ you shouldn’t drive. And Happy was already on his way, so it’s no big deal.”

“Right. Blowing off plans with Tony Stark. No big deal.”

“It’s not Tony Stark and it’s not _blowing off._ ”

“What do you mean, it’s not Tony Stark?”

He leaned back and seemed highly uncomfortable. He muttered something under his breath and Cindy leaned in closer.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s Avengers movie night, okay?” He pursed his lips. “Every Saturday at the Tower. And it’s no big deal, seriously.”

She laughed and shook her head, looking out her window at the hundreds of lights cutting the darkness just beyond the glass. “I rest my case, Parker,” she said, never looking away from the road.

“What case is that?”

“You are such a twerp.”

He huffed out a laugh and Cindy joined in. In truth, she was still trying to wrap her head around all of this, and probably would be for a while. She could not remember the last time someone had sacrificed so much for her. And she knew she’d had a few drinks, she knew her emotions tended to get all mushy when she did that, but she also knew that this – the car, the driver, the boy sitting across from her – was not to be taken lightly. Movie night with the freaking _Avengers_ – that was something people would kill or die for, depending on which of the two would get them more time in the presence of Earth’s mightiest heroes. Some people would do both just to see _one_ of the Avengers face-to-face. Nobody she knew would ever cancel plans of such importance for _anything._

But Peter kind of had. Peter, whom she had not even wanted to invite to the party. He had done it for Annica and for her and for Ned, apparently, and he was trying to play it down.

 _No big deal my ass,_ Cindy thought.

But that was Peter Parker for you, she supposed, and she would be damned if she made him feel more uncomfortable than he already was.

“Thanks, Parker,” she said, and then, on a hunch, added something she thought he really needed to hear. “You’re a really nice guy, you know.”

Because she would also be damned if she let him believe anything else than that. He did not deserve to believe lies – did not deserve anything Flash or his goons threw his way. Did not deserve the cranky cooks that prepared their lunch at school, did not deserve the teachers yelling at him when he was late _yet again._ Did not deserve to have lost his parents and his uncle. Did not deserve much of what he got.

Still, he always smiled. Still, he always tried to help and always put others first and always sacrificed.

He deserved the truth, deserved to know how irreplaceable he really was and how much people needed him. And if she had to get a few drinks into herself to tell him that, well, she could get used to getting drunk more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the second story done. Tomorrow we're moving on to Ned's POV. I'm so excited! Have a nice Sunday! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I'm back!  
> I'm so happy and excited to be doing this! All in all, this series is going to comprise five stories and each of them will be written from the point of view of another person Peter knows. The stories are more or less done, so I'll be posting a chapter a day starting today.  
> Thank you so much for reading! Larb you all!


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